Let's Keep This a Secret
by Angelic Guardian
Summary: I loathe Eric Cartman. That's no secret. And up until tonight, I always knew he felt the same way about me. But all of that changes when he tells me something that he obviously never wanted me to know. Twoshot. Kyle's POV, then Cartman's. Mild slash.
1. Kyle's POV

Author's Note: This is the longest oneshot I've ever written so far, and I originally never even planned for it to be this long. It just kinda happened…

I chose to write this in the present tense, just to change things up a bit. I worked really hard on this oneshot, so if you're gonna take the time to read it, please review at the end! That's all I ask. I hate when people read/favorite my stories but don't review. D:

And yes, this is a Cartman/Kyle slash, though there's a small amount of it. Most of the slash stuff doesn't happen 'til later on anyway, but I promise it'll be worth the wait, because I saved this one really adorable scene for the very end of the story. It's subtle, but the cuteness should make up for it. ;D

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

Let's Keep This a Secret

Hi. My name's Kyle Broflovski. I'm nine years old, Jewish, and I live in South Park, Colorado.

Let's see… What else can I share about myself?

Well, okay, if there's only one thing everyone knows about me, it's that there's this one person in the entire world that I absolutely, without a doubt, can't stand. I'm not even kidding when I say that I fucking hate this kid with every single inch of my body.

His name is Eric Cartman.

If you're lucky enough to _not_ know anything about that son of a bitch, allow me to take this opportunity to quickly fill you in. He's basically an arrogant, manipulative, narcissistic, psychotic, selfish, annoying, evil, racist, sadistic, fat, retarded fucking douche bag.

…Did I mention fat?

If you think all of _that_ sounds bad, you don't even know the fucking half of it. Seriously, you wouldn't believe the shit that asshole has done to me.

Oh, God, you're curious, aren't you? Alright, fine.

Well, for starters, he's ripped on me for being Jewish probably about a million times, and no, that's not an exaggeration. He's literally called me every Jewish stereotype in the book, that I'm greedy, that I'm a rat… You name it, he's said it. Fuck, he pretty much just addresses me as 'Jew' almost all the time. I guess I'm kinda used to it by now, but still, it's really fucking annoying.

His anti-Semitism actually goes way beyond immature name calling though. He once pretended to have fucking Tourette's Syndrome, and as if that weren't bad enough, he thought it would be fun to use his 'illness' as an excuse to go on national television to bash the Jews. I stopped him from doing it, thank God, but that somehow ended up working out in his favor. You have no idea how pissed off I was about that.

Also, he's tried to kill me before. One time he tried beating me to death with a wiffle bat. (I know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, he really is that stupid.)

And, oh yeah, here's a good one: he's given me fucking AIDS! He broke into my room, while I was _sleeping_, and he injected a needle filled with his own blood into my mouth.

But none of that stuff compares to when he went to such extreme lengths to get me to suck his balls all because of a stupid fucking bet we made over a leprechaun.

I swear to God, I'm not making this shit up.

Anyway, I could keep going on and on about the fucked up things Cartman's done to me in the past, but I'm sure you get the point. Besides, I really have nothing more to say about that fat prick, except for the fact that I despise him. Always have, always will.

So, you can only imagine the total disgust I'm currently feeling as I suddenly wake up in the middle of the night to Cartman obnoxiously tapping on my window. (This isn't the first time he's done this, by the way.)

I let out a long, frustrating sigh as I tiredly get out from underneath my covers and crawl across my bed until I reach the window. I hold out my hand and grab onto the string that closes the curtain. Just as I'm about to pull on it, Cartman starts frantically banging on the glass.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what?" I shout at him.

He looks at me with those cold, vicious eyes of his. "Let me in, Goddammit!" he shouts back at me. It's sort of hard to hear him through the glass, though, and to be honest, I kinda like it that way. I hate hearing his voice.

I shake my head. "Fuck no! Go away, fatass!" I say a little softer now. I can't risk accidentally waking up my little brother, or more importantly, my parents.

He folds his hands together. "Pleeeeeease?" he whines.

Oh, God, he's _begging_? He's so fucking pathetic. And the worst part is, even if I decide to ignore him and try to go back to sleep (which I would absolutely love to do), I guarantee you that he'll keep knocking on my window for _at least _another twenty minutes. So, either way, I can't go back to bed until he leaves, and I figure the sooner I shut him up and let him come in, the sooner he'll fucking go away.

I roll my eyes, and reluctantly, I unlock the handle on my windows and push them open. I notice that Cartman is smiling as I do this. It almost seems like he has an evil scheme up his sleeve, and the reason he's smiling like that is because the first step – which I guess is waking me up from a sound sleep and breaking into my room _yet again_ – is now complete.

That's definitely why he's here. I'm sure of it. He must be in the middle of yet another one of his crazy, diabolical plans. He's fucking _always_ up to something. That's another reason why I hate him. You can never let your guard down with Cartman, because if you do, he'll screw you over in a second. And, believe me, I learned that the hard way.

Anyway, after I open up the windows, I watch as Cartman struggles to bring his entire fat body over the edge so that he can enter my room. He grasps onto the curtain for support, and then he swings one leg over, and right away, he starts to lose his balance. He slips and falls, making a loud crashing sound as he hits the floor. I can hear him weakly moaning in agony now.

It's pretty fucking funny. I'm not gonna lie.

I hastily shut the windows and lock them, all the while Cartman is still lying on the ground. I look down at him, and I can't help but smile. He finally lifts his head up and makes eyes contact with me.

"You know," he says as he pushes himself off the floor and stands up. "You could've fucking helped me, Jew!"

Fuck that!

"You wouldn't have helped me, fatass!" I angrily reply. "You would've just fucking laughed!"

I don't care what he says. I _know_ that he knows I'm right. He doesn't say anything, though. He just diverts his gaze and brushes himself off a little bit.

"Dude, why the fuck are you even here, fatass?" I demand to know. "I mean, it's…" I take a quick glance at the digital clock sitting on my nightstand. "…three fucking thirty! Jesus, what's so Goddamn important that you just _had_ to wake me up at 3:30 in the fucking morning?"

"I'm glad you asked, Kahl," he says, clamping his hands behind his back. He takes a few steps away from the window, stops, and turns around to face me again.

Okay, I'm sorry, but this is just pissing me off. Why the _FUCK_ can't he pronounce my Goddamn name correctly? It's KYLE, dipshit.

Oh, God, what the hell is he doing now? It looks like he's pulling something out of his coat pocket, but I'm not really sure. It's kinda hard to see him since it's so dark in here. I mean, the only source of light is the one coming from the window, and it's obviously fucking dark out there, too, so it's not helping much.

He's holding something out in front of him now. "Do you recognize this, Kahl?" he asks.

My eyes squint as I try to make-out whatever the hell it is that he's holding in his hand. It looks kinda round and…soft, by the way Cartman is squeezing it. And I'm not completely sure, but I think something is oozing out from the top of it. Wait a minute, what the hell?

"Dude, is that a jelly doughnut?" I ask with almost no doubt in my mind.

"Yes, Jew, that's exactly what it is!" he practically screams at the top of his lungs.

"Okay…" I say. I'm so fucking confused right now. "…and that's important because…" I'm hoping he'll finish that sentence for me, because I literally have no clue what's going on. But then again, I never understand anything Cartman does.

"You don't remember, Kahl?" he asks me. Call me crazy, but I _think_ he already knew that I wouldn't remember whatever the fuck it is he wanted me to remember. He takes a deep breath. "Well then, let me remind you about what happened exactly 37 days ago, on a Thursday, at 12:06 in the afternoon…"

How does he _know_ all of that shit? Either he has a really amazing memory (which would be creepy), or he's making up random numbers just to screw with my head and make me think he knows what he's talking about, when in reality, he doesn't.

I'm leaning more toward the latter one.

"It was during lunchtime, Kahl. You were eating one of those gay kosher meals that your mom packed for you, while I was enjoying my awesome food that _isn't_ meant for complete Jewish pussies, such as yourself."

You see what I mean? There he goes again, mocking my religion.

"Anyway, Kahl, just when I was about to eat my delicious jelly doughnut, _you _decided it would be a good idea to pick it up with your filthy Jew hands and take a bite out of it. I'm sure you thought you were gonna get away with it, too! Well, not this time, Kahl."

…

I have _no_ idea what he's talking about at all. Is he _trying _to drive me crazy? Because if he is, then it's seriously fucking working.

But you know what, I'm way too tired to fight with him right now, so I'm just gonna play along.

"Yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do about it, fatass?" I ask.

Cartman starts walking toward me now. "Well, Jew, since you just _had _to take a bite out of it in the first place, I want you to finish it." He stops right at the foot of my bed and extends the doughnut out near my face. "Right now."

Is he fucking serious?

…Well, that's actually a stupid question. Of course he's serious. That's the sad part.

I push the disgusting, powdery doughnut away from my face. "So, let me get this straight." Let's see if I can wrap my head around his logic. "You found it necessary to wake me up in the middle of the fucking night…just so you could force me to eat an old, moldy doughnut?"

If he doesn't see the insanity in that, then he's even more retarded than I thought.

He stares at me for a couple of seconds, probably trying to come up with a 'clever' answer, but then he thrusts the doughnut at me again. "Just fucking eat it, Jew!"

I shove it back at him. "Why don't _you_ eat it, you fat fuck!"

"Ay, I'm not fat!" he snaps at me.

"Yes you are!" I say through clenched teeth. I feel like I'm about to explode. I've had enough of this shit. "Dude, are you _really _that oblivious, Cartman? You can't honestly believe that you aren't fat. You're fucking blind if you do."

He narrows his eyes, like he's trying to threaten me or something. "At least I'm not a Jew," he says menacingly.

Wow. I should've seen that coming.

I put my head in my hands, maybe due to the drowsiness, maybe because I'm so damn sick and tired of wise ass comments, I don't know.

I bring my head up to look at him again. His hands are clutching onto my bedpost now.

…I know, I'm wondering where the fuck he put the doughnut, too. Your guess is as good as mine.

He's viciously glaring at me, and I'm doing the same exact thing to him, but both of us are staying quiet. I wonder what the hell is going on in that twisted mind of his. He's probably thinking about how much he wants to kill me for being such a 'pesky Jew'.

Well…whatever he's so deep in thought about, I'm guessing it at least has _something _to do with me. I can tell by the way he's staring at me in such a demonic, heart piercing kind of way.

Shit, how long have we been staring at each other like this anyway? Why didn't you fucking say something?

The silence is quickly becoming way too excruciating for me. I need to break it now before it starts getting awkward.

"Dude, why do you _always _have to fight with me like this, Cartman?" I ask. "Do you have _any _idea how annoying it is? I mean, can't you think of anything better to do than to pick fights with me all the time?"

His mouth parts open slightly as soon as I finish asking the question. Huh. That's kinda weird. Maybe I caught him off guard or something, but I really don't see how I could've done that. After all, it's a pretty straightforward question.

"Because I _like _fighting with you, Jew," he says almost inaudibly.

I tilt my head to the left and blink twice.

Yeah, yeah, I heard what he said. That doesn't mean I understood what he meant by it though.

"Why?" I decide to ask.

I notice right away that his fingers tighten around my bedpost, like he's holding onto it for dear life. What's with him right now? He seems…scared, maybe? I honestly don't know. I've never seen him like this before.

"'Cause, Kahl, you're just fucking fun to mess with!" he finally answers. "Way more fun than messing with Butters, that's for sure. He's too much of a pussy. He doesn't actually fight back, and that's way too fucking boring for me! I'm just so used to pissing _you _off all the time! I mean, if I _didn't_ have you to fight with, I'd go fucking insane! That's why when you moved away to San Francisco that time, I-"

He suddenly stops talking then. He literally stops himself right there, mid-sentence. It was so abrupt that my eyebrows instantly shoot up out of being so completely taken aback by it.

"You…you what?" I ask.

I've never been more curious about anything before in my life.

He brings a clamped hand to his mouth and clears his throat. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," he says, looking away from me.

My eyebrows lower now. "No, fuck that. Tell me right now, fatass!"

"Just forget it, Jew!" he says, still avoiding eye contact with me.

Why does he always have to make everything so fucking difficult?

"Just fucking tell me!" I yell, the frustration bursting out of me.

He locks his eyes onto mine, and the second he does that, I feel the anger build up between us, maybe even more so than I was able to feel it before.

"Didn't you ever wonder how you and your Goddamn family managed to get out of that city alive when it was about to be fucking destroyed? I'm disappointed in you, Kahl. I thought you would've figured it out by now. I mean, you _are _a smart, know-it-all Jew, aren't you?" He pauses, and the expression on his face changes noticeably, switching from anger to…hurt, possibly?

"It was because of _me_, asshole," he says in such a deep, serious tone of voice.

I feel my heart skip a beat then, and my whole body just freezes. It's the weirdest sensation I've ever experienced before, almost like the world just came to a screeching halt, and that everything I once knew no longer makes sense to me anymore. I think I'm getting a headache…

Cartman _saved_ me?

I shudder at the thought of him actually risking his own life just to save mine_, _regardless of whatever stupid, selfish reasons he may have had for doing it.

"Well," I say, comfortably leaning my back against the headboard of my bed. "I guess that makes us even then."

Ha. I bet he wasn't expecting me to react like _that_.

One of his eyebrows rises up. "The fuck are you talking about, Jew?"

I smirk. Of course he doesn't know what I'm talking about. How convenient. "Don't you remember that time we all got trapped in that gay Cave of the Winds, fatass? And me and Stan thought you were fucking _dying, _when later we found out that you just ate fake fucking treasure? Yeah, _I _was the one who nearly died trying to save you! When it started flooding in there, we both would've drowned if it weren't for me!"

He frowns, and there's another few seconds of silence before he shrugs and says, "Well, yeah, but that's _nothing _compared to what I went through to save you, Jew."

I mentally slap myself. "It's not a fucking contest, fatass!" I snarl.

We both fall silent again, and now all I can think about is what he just said. The worst part about it is that, as much as I fucking hate to admit it, I know he's right. I can't tell _him _that though, because if there's one thing that Cartman loves (other than himself, obviously), it's the satisfaction of knowing when he's right about something. And I just _can't _give it to him, because if I do, he'll throw it right back in my face, and I'll never hear the fucking end of it.

But…I suppose there _is_ one thing he deserves to hear…

"Anyway…" I say, slowly sucking in a long breath and exhaling it out. I think I'm gonna seriously regret what I'm about to say to him…

I mean, this is something I've _never _said to him before. Ever.

I hesitate a little while longer, wondering how he's gonna react when I say it, but I guess I'm about to find out.

Oh well, here it goes.

"Thanks, Cartman," I say so quietly that I can barely hear myself saying it.

There it is. I said it. It's out in the open. I can't take it back now, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to.

…Because, come on, the _least _I can do is thank him for what he did, right? He rescued me and my entire family for crying out loud. That's the nicest fucking thing anyone has ever done for me.

Oh, shut up. And wipe that Goddamn smile off your face.

"You're welcome," he mumbles, though I'm still able to understand him, for some reason, considering it's so painfully quiet in here. "And…thank you, too, I guess…" he adds.

Whoa, did he really just say that? You heard him, right? It's not just the insomnia kicking in and making me hear things?

Okay, good. I thought I was losing it for a second.

Well, what do you expect? It's almost 4 o'clock in the fucking morning.

Holy shit, I've never stayed up this late before. I'm so damn exhausted right now. Seriously, I'm finding it extremely difficult just to keep my head up, because I honestly feel like I'm about to collapse right onto my bed at any given moment.

I open my mouth to yawn, but instead I just say, "Dude, listen, I'm really fucking tired, so I think you'd better get going now."

"Oh," Cartman replies, looking surprised. "Well, see, the thing is, Kahl, I would do that if I could, but I can't."

"…Why not?" I ask.

"I sorta…accidentally…locked myself out of my house."

Idiot.

"So just break in," I suggest.

"I can't."

I feel myself quickly losing patience with him again. "Why the fuck not?"

"I don't know how," he answers simply.

Is he joking? "Dude, you break into _my _fucking house all the time!" I point out.

"But _your_ house is super easy to break into, Jew," he says. "Plus I've done it, like, 500 times…"

Five fucking hundred? That's probably an understatement.

I release a small huff. "Fine. You can sleep on the floor."

"How about…" he says, tapping his chin. "_You _sleep on the floor."

"It's _my _fucking room, fatass!"

"Yes, but _I'm_ the guest! You need to show some hospitality, Kahl."

He's _really _pushing his limit here. He's lucky I don't throw his ass out right now. I should do that. It sounds awfully tempting, that's for sure.

"Just go to sleep," I say, finally lying down and pulling the covers over myself.

I hear him shuffling around a little bit, and then, absolutely nothing.

Perfect. Almost like he's not even here.

Almost.

* * *

I slowly open my eyes, and I lie there in a daze, staring up at the ceiling and wondering for a few seconds why it's so fucking bright in here, until I stupidly realize that it's morning. I groggily reach my hand up and rub one of my eyes. I wonder what time it is…

Just as I try to shift my body over to look at my clock, I feel something overpowering my chest, making it impossible for me to move. What the fuck?

I sharply turn my head to see a mess of brown hair and an arm outstretched toward me with a hand resting right on top of my chest.

Dude, what the _FUCK_? Cartman's in my _bed? _How the fuck did _that _happen?

I shoot up from my pillow. Cartman's hand slides off my body and lands on my comforter, much to my tremendous relief. My heart is racing so fucking fast right now. I can actually _feel _it beating in my chest, and it's scaring the shit out of me. I need to calm down.

But, wow… I don't believe this. He must've climbed into my bed after I fell asleep last night.

Goddammit, _why _is he in my fucking bed? Really, what the hell is so bad about sleeping on the floor for just one fucking night?

I look down at him again. He's dead asleep. He's just softly breathing in and out, his mouth hanging open, his brown hair all tangled up…

He looks peaceful, though, and I can't help but feel…I dunno…safe, maybe, knowing the fact that he obviously can't do anything to me while he's sleeping…

I quietly lay my head back down on my pillow, and I move a little bit closer, just enough for our bodies to touch. My face immediately starts burning up as I feel the warmth of his body pressing into mine. I slowly close my eyes again.

If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kill you.


	2. Cartman's POV

Author's Note: So, I came up with this idea to re-write the same exact dialogue and events from LKTaS, but in Cartman's point of view. I think there are a few more semi-slashy moments in this one. Just enough to satisfy your Cartman/Kyle cravings. ;D

As always, I hope you like it, and I'd love it if you'd leave a review once you're finished reading. Maybe you could tell me whose perspective you enjoyed reading more.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own South Park, but if I did, something like this would eventually happen on the show at some point.

Let's Keep This a Secret

…Who the hell are you?

Well, fine, bitch, if you're not gonna tell me, I guess I'll just introduce myself then. Whateva, I do what I want!

The name's Eric Cartman, but most people just call me by my last name. I don't know why. They're all assholes for doing it.

I live in this crappy mountain town called South Park, and I absolutely hate it. It sucks. Trust me, if you lived here, you would know.

And that's about it. I don't feel like sharing anything else about myself. There's nothing else you need to know, anyway.

Oh, except that I'm awesome. I'm super awesome. You fucking _wish_ you could be as awesome as me. But you can't, and therefore, you suck.

Don't feel bad, though. You're not the only one to be jealous of me for being so cool. I'm seriously, _a lot_ of people hate me because of it. Stan, Kenny, Craig, Clyde, Token, Jimmy…

But no one and I mean _no one_ hates me as much as this one kid… This no-good, sneaky, conniving, self-righteous, nosy, irritating, pesky fucking Jew rat…

Kyle Broflovski.

I can't even _begin_ to tell you how much I can't stand Kyle fucking Broflovski. He's just so _annoying_. He thinks he's fucking right about _everything_. He constantly tries to push his gay morals on everyone, especially me. And he's always telling people to 'do the right thing.'

I know, lame, right? Seriously, where's the fun in that? That's why I do whatever the hell I want all the time. I don't let anyone stop me, not even Kyle, no matter how many times he's tried before.

And, believe me, he's tried _a lot_. Like, for example, the time he tried to stop me from going along with one of my many brilliant plans that I came up with, which was pretending to be retarded so I could win $1,000 in the Special Olympics.

Or the time he tried to prevent me from getting the worst show in the world, _Family Guy_, off the air. And he fucking beat me, because despite all of my efforts, they aired the Goddamn 'offensive' episode after he gave the president of Fox one of his gay little speeches.

Then there was that time he tried so hard to weasel his way out of a bet we made over whether or not leprechauns were real. And I totally fucking won, but he _still_ refused to follow through with his end of the deal. I wanted him to suck my balls, but he wouldn't fucking do it!

So I had to imagine him doing it…

Look, the point is, he's already gotten away with _way_ too much shit in the past, but all of that is about to end tonight. 'Cause I have this awesome plan to totally humiliate him once and for all. I'm telling you, it's a pretty sweet plan, and there's _no_ possible way it could go wrong.

Oh my God, I can't fucking _wait_ to see how he's gonna react… Maybe he'll cry. Oh, _please_, God, make Kyle cry! I would seriously savor that moment forever.

But I can't think about that right now, because I gotta keep my focus on breaking into his house…

Not that it's hard for me or anything. I mean, I've broken into his house loads of times… More times than I can even remember.

Ay, fuck you, it does _not_ make me a gay stalker! I just enjoy doing things to him while he's asleep.

…

Fuck, that didn't come out right.

Goddammit, you know what I meant! I like messing with him, alright? And anyway, it's mad fun to pull pranks on people. Come on, you know it is.

Now I can see his house straight ahead of me in plain view. I slyly turn my head to make sure that there's no one around behind me, and then I look forward again. The coast is clear. I dive from the bush I was just hiding in, landing on the grass in front of me without even making a sound. (Yeah, that's right. I'm like a fucking ninja. You wish you had my skills. Don't even try to deny it.)

I quickly scramble to my feet and tiptoe the rest of the way until I reach his back porch. Once I do, I peer through his window, pressing my hands and face against the glass. Fuck, I can't see him at all. I can barely make out the shape of his bed.

Oh well. Time to wake him up now. I _love_ doing this.

I start knocking on his window, and it doesn't take long before I'm able to see his shadow getting up and drawing closer.

Yes. There he is. Look at him. He looks fucking exhausted. I wonder if he… Wait a minute, what's he doing? He's reaching his arm up… Shit, he's about to close the curtains, isn't he? Dammit!

I pound on the window with my fist even louder.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what?" he screams, looking at me with angry eyes.

"Let me in, Goddammit!" I command.

He'd better respect my authoritah. He'll only be making it worse for himself if he doesn't, because then I'm gonna be more pissed off, and I'll have to make him do something even _more_ humiliating than what I already had in mind.

Well, I guess that wouldn't be _too_ bad, actually…

He shakes his head vigorously back and forth. "Fuck no!" he shouts. "Go away, fatass!"

Well. There's no need to have a fucking attitude. I swear, he can be such a whiny little bitch at times.

Whatever. No big deal. I know exactly how to win him over anyway.

"Pleeeeeease?" I ask sweetly, clasping my hands together as if I'm praying.

He continues staring at me with that harsh look on his face, but after a few seconds, he rolls his eyes and starts to unlock the windows. I smirk. Wise decision, Kyle.

Not for him, obviously, but that's his own damn fault.

I take a step back as he pushes the windows open, and then I grab onto the edge with one hand, the other on his curtain. I pull one leg up and immediately feel myself shake a little bit. Whoa, steady now…

I try to keep holding myself up, but it's no use. My leg gives in, and I instantly collapse face-first into the floor.

Mother_fucker!_ That hurt like a _bitch!_ My head is fucking _throbbing_ right now. I hope I didn't get a concussion or something…

I use every ounce of strength I have left to pull my head up from the ground. I glare directly at Kyle. Is that a fucking _smile_ on his face? He's actually _enjoying_ seeing me get hurt like this? That son of a bitch.

"You know," I begin to say as I help my own fucking self up from the ground. "You could've fucking helped me, Jew!"

Seriously. That would've been the fucking _nice_ thing to do.

Not that I would've done anything if it were the other way around, but that's beside the point.

"You wouldn't have helped me, fatass! You would've just fucking laughed!" he yells.

That isn't true!

…Alright, fine, maybe it is kinda true, but so fucking what? I'm not about to admit that to _him_, that's for sure.

I check myself to make sure that I don't have any massive bruises or anything, and while I'm doing that, I hear him ask, "Dude, why the fuck are you even here, fatass? I mean, it's…" He pauses to look at his clock. "…three fucking thirty! Jesus, what's so Goddamn important that you just _had_ to wake me up at 3:30 in the fucking morning?"

Oh, so _now_ he cares!

"I'm glad you asked, Kyle," I say with a devious grin on my face. I turn my back to him, cupping my hands behind me and walking away from that Goddamn window. I spin around to look at him again.

This is it. I carefully reach into my jacket pocket and pull out an old doughnut that I stuffed in there earlier right before I left my house. I hold it out in his direction, squishing it in between my fingers. "Do you recognize this, Kyle?" I ask. I doubt he does, but we'll see.

Dammit, some of the jelly is leaking out of it. What a fucking waste! The jelly is the best part. Everybody knows that.

"Dude, is that a jelly doughnut?" he finally asks.

Took him long enough.

"Yes, Jew, that's exactly what it is!" I shout out of frustration.

"Okay…" he says in a confused tone. "…and that's important because…"

Well, it's not necessarily _important_, but it is the first step to my amazing and well thought out plan.

"You don't remember, Kyle?" He shouldn't. That's the whole point: to catch him off guard. I love doing that to him. It's hella fun. "Well then, let me remind you about what happened exactly 37 days ago, on a Thursday, at 12:06 in the afternoon…"

I'll let you in on a little secret. I totally just made up all of that stuff I just said. It's all part of my plan. You'll see what I mean.

"It was during lunchtime, Kyle," I go on. "You were eating one of those gay kosher meals that your mom packed for you, while I was enjoying my awesome food that _isn't_ meant for complete Jewish pussies, such as yourself."

Seriously, _kosher?_ I'm _so_ fucking glad that I'm not a Jew. I'm not even kidding, if I were a Jew, I would've killed myself a looooong time ago. I mean, for one thing, Jews can't eat pork, which makes them pussies.

"Anyway, Kyle, just when I was about to eat my delicious jelly doughnut, _you _decided it would be a good idea to pick it up with your filthy Jew hands and take a bite out of it. I'm sure you thought you were gonna get away with it, too!" I say accusingly. "Well, not this time, Kyle."

I got him now!

Aww, man, I can't really see the look on his face though… It's way too fucking dark in here.

"Yeah?" he asks. "And what exactly are you gonna do about it, fatass?"

Sweet. Here comes the fun part. I start to wander over to him. "Well, Jew, since you just _had _to take a bite out of it in the first place, I want you to finish it." I stop in front of his bed and extend the doughnut out to him. "Right now."

Can you imagine what'll happen to him after he eats it? He'll probably puke or something. That would be hilarious.

He swats the doughnut away. "So, let me get this straight," he says, scowling at me. "You found it necessary to wake me up in the middle of the fucking night…just so you could force me to eat an old, moldy doughnut?"

Well, when he puts it like _that_, it just sounds stupid…

But I shove the doughnut back at him anyway. "Just fucking eat it, Jew!" I bellow. Why does he always have to be so stubborn all the time?

He pushes my hand away again. "Why don't _you_ eat it, you fat fuck!" he shouts at me like a little bitch.

"Ay, I'm not fat!" I say in my defense.

"Yes you are!" he says even louder and bitchier. "Dude, are you _really _that oblivious, Cartman? You can't honestly believe that you aren't fat. You're fucking blind if you do."

I'm _not_ fat! I'm just big boned! Why doesn't anyone ever fucking listen to me when I try to explain it to them?

I know just how to respond to him, though…

"At least I'm not a Jew," I reply coldly.

I fucking _hate_ Jews. They're greedy, they're evil, and you simply can't trust them at all. The fact that Kyle is a Jew only makes me hate him even more.

I see him bury his face in his hands. Holy shit, is he about to cry?

Nope, he's just sitting there. Dammit. I got all excited for nothing.

I quickly stuff the doughnut back into my pocket and place my hands on his bedpost. He lifts his head up, giving me another cruel look. I stare him down, too, my eyes narrowing into thin slits.

I wonder what the hell is going on in his head right now… Oh, God, I hope he isn't using his Jew voodoo magic to melt my fucking brain or something.

Screw you, I'm being fucking serious! You don't know what kind of powers Jews have! Especially Kyle…

"Dude, why do you _always _have to fight with me like this, Cartman? Do you have _any _idea how annoying it is?" he asks. "I mean, can't you think of anything better to do than to pick fights with me all the time?"

My body stiffens, and my mouth drops open a little bit. What kind of fucking question is that? Why does he even care, anyway?

But I'd better answer him before he starts getting suspicious or something…

"Because I _like _fighting with you, Jew," I whisper.

He cocks his head to the side and blinks. "Why?" he asks.

I dig my nails into the wood of his bedpost. God. DAMMIT. What's up with the annoying questions? Why the fuck should I have to explain my reasons?

But I suddenly find myself talking again before I can realize what the fuck I'm even saying. "'Cause, Kyle, you're just fucking fun to mess with!" I blurt out. "Way more fun than messing with Butters, that's for sure. He's too much of a pussy. He doesn't actually fight back, and that's way too fucking boring for me! I'm just so used to pissing _you _off all the time! I mean, if I _didn't_ have you to fight with, I'd go fucking insane! That's why when you moved away to San Francisco that time, I-"

Holy _SHIT! _What the _fuck_ is wrong with me? I can't tell him _that!_ I've already been keeping it a secret from him for so fucking long. There's no way in hell I'm about to let it slip now.

I see his eyebrows go up. "You…you what?" he asks. The surprised tone in his voice is super obvious.

God, why does he have to make this so hard for me? Can't he ever just let things go?

I put a clenched hand to my mouth and cough into it. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," I say quickly as my eyes fall to the floor.

"No, fuck that. Tell me right now, fatass!" he whines.

"Just forget it, Jew!" I lash back, my gaze staying glued to the floor. I pray to God he'll just drop it already and finally shut the hell up.

"Just fucking tell me!" he cries out.

I look up at him. He looks even more pissed off than usual, but then again, I'm sure I do, too. I've never felt so fucking aggravated before in my whole life.

"Didn't you ever wonder how you and your Goddamn family managed to get out of that city alive when it was about to be fucking destroyed?" I ask harshly. "I'm disappointed in you, Kyle. I thought you would've figured it out by now. I mean, you _are _a smart, know-it-all Jew, aren't you?"

I hold back for a few seconds, thinking twice about whether or not I should even bother telling him anymore.

Fuck it. I'll say it. I'm not a pussy.

"It was because of _me_, asshole," I finish, making sure to say it with nothing but venom in my voice.

His eyes widen, and to say he looks shocked would be an understatement.

Yeah, that's right. I fucking saved his ass. Now, before you go off thinking I'm such a nice guy for doing it, I need to make something perfectly clear to you right off the bat. I did not - I can't emphasize this enough – do it because I _missed_ him. I did it because I missed _fighting_ with him. There's a difference. So shut the fuck up.

He leans back against his bed. "Well, I guess that makes us even then," he says casually.

What the fuck, man? He just found out that I saved his _life,_ and that's all he has to say? And what does that even mean, anyway?

"The fuck are you talking about, Jew?" I ask, raising one of my eyebrows.

Seriously, I have no clue. Unless I'm forgetting something…

He smiles. Goddammit, I hate when he smirks like that. It means he's got some kinda wise ass comment to throw back at me.

"Don't you remember that time we all got trapped in that gay Cave of the Winds, fatass?" he asks. "And me and Stan thought you were fucking _dying, _when later we found out that you just ate fake fucking treasure? Yeah, _I _was the one who nearly died trying to save you! When it started flooding in there, we both would've drowned if it weren't for me!"

Fuck, I totally forgot about that… Still…

"Well, yeah, but that's _nothing _compared to what I went through to save you, Jew," I say with a shrug.

It's true! He knows it is.

"It's not a fucking contest, fatass!" he snaps at me.

Yes it is. And I won, Jew, but you just won't admit it.

He hates when I'm right. He really does. Seriously, I can think of maybe only two or three times when he's admitted to my face that I was right about something. And when he _does_ actually have the balls to say it, it's like, the greatest fucking feeling in the world. Let me tell you, one of the best moments in my entire life was when he came to my porch in the pouring rain after he saw _The Passion_ and admitted that I was right about Jews all along.

It was awesome. You should've seen him. He looked so… defeated.

Speaking of which, that's kinda how he looks right now…

"Anyway…" he sighs, but he doesn't say anything else after that.

He's still staring at me, but it's in a different way now. The look on his face is…softer.

It's sorta freaking me out, to be honest. I don't think I've _ever_ seen him look at me like that before. I mean, I'm so used to him being pissed off. Come to think of it, he's pretty much pissed off _all_ the time. Especially when he's talking to me…

"Thanks, Cartman," I hear him say in a really low voice.

…Thanks? Did he just say _thanks?_ Is this a fucking joke or something? He's _never_ said that to me before. Is he trying to mess with me? Because if he is, I swear I'll… Well…

I hope he's not.

"You're welcome," I mutter, feeling my face grow hot as I say it.

I _really_ don't want to say these next words, but here it comes. "And…thank you, too, I guess…"

After I say that, I see him smile a little bit. It's a kind smile, though, and the fucked up thing about it is that I don't even think he's aware that he's smiling like that…

Huh. You know, I never noticed it before, but he has a pretty nice smile…

I freeze as I realize what I just thought. Fuck. What am I, a fag? (Don't you dare say yes.)

I swear to God, if you tell _anybody_ I thought that, you're dead. Got it?

"Dude, listen," he suddenly says with a yawn, "I'm really fucking tired, so I think you'd better get going now."

"Oh," I respond. Well, that certainly snapped me out of my thoughts. Thank God. "Well, see, the thing is, Kyle, I would do that if I could, but I can't."

"…Why not?" he asks with a slight attitude.

Oh, God… He's gonna think I'm so fucking stupid for this…

"I sorta…accidentally…locked myself out of my house," I admit grudgingly.

He's gonna flip out any second now. I can feel it.

"So just break in," he says.

"I can't," I reply.

_Now_ he's gonna flip out.

"Why the fuck not?" he asks impatiently.

Okay… He's _almost_ about to explode…

"I don't know how," I answer.

"Dude, you break into _my _fucking house all the time!" he roars.

Ha, there it is. I love pushing him to the point where he just can't take it anymore and starts to lose it. It's funny to watch.

"But _your_ house is super easy to break into, Jew," I say as if it's a fact. "Plus I've done it, like, 500 times…"

No, I haven't actually done it that many times, you fucking bitch!

He sighs again. "Fine. You can sleep on the floor," he offers.

I tap my chin, pondering that over. "How about…_you_ sleep on the floor," I suggest, just to piss him off him even more.

"It's _my _fucking room, fatass!" he says angrily.

And his point is?

"Yes, but _I'm_ the guest!" I mention to him. "You need to show some hospitality, Kyle."

He stares at me for another second or two, and then he plops down on his bed and says, "Just go to sleep."

I grumble under my breath. Fine, whatever. I'm fucking exhausted anyway. I walk over to the middle of his room and lie down on the cold, hard floor. Dammit, this sucks! Maybe I'll just…use my hat as a pillow or something. I pull it off and scrunch it up into a ball, tucking it under my head.

Meh, good enough, I guess…

* * *

I toss and turn, trying my best to find a comfortable spot, but it's hopeless. I open my eyes, and I can see the sun beginning to shine through the window, which is only making it even _more_ impossible for me to fall asleep. Not only that, but I'm also freezing my ass off. This blows.

That's it, screw this.

I sit up, and then I use my sexy, awesome ninja skills to sneak across Kyle's room 'til I reach his bed. I hold my breath as I cautiously pick up his blanket in between my two fingers. I lift it up very slowly, and after giving myself enough room, I hop onto the bed and slide myself underneath the blanket, and once I do that, Kyle suddenly moves his arm closer to his body.

My heart stops.

Oh my God. Don't tell me he's waking up!

I stare at him for a couple more seconds, but he doesn't make any other movements. I breathe a small sigh of relief. That was fucking close.

Finally, I can relax now. After I comfortably settle in, I start to close my eyes.

This is much better. A nice, warm bed…

…with a nice, warm Jew.

Shit, I really hope he doesn't hit me when he wakes up.


End file.
